The Persuasion in the Story
by nattylovesjordy
Summary: Brennan has a series of conversations that give her the answers she needs and pushes her into Booth's waiting arms. B&B. Enjoy.
1. The Persuasion in the Story

**_Author's Note:_**_ When I got this idea, I knew from the beginning this would not go in my "Adjective" series. Thank you for taking the time to read, and possibly review, this fic. It means a lot to me. I have it listed as complete, but depending on some other things, this may become a multiple-chapter fic. We shall see. _

**_Setting:_**_ As per usual, this could happen any number of different times after the 100th episode. Probably better to have happened sooner after the episode than later, especially so we can pretend Marine Biologist lady (Catherine) and Hacker never existed. Also, if the first half of this story is factually incorrect, then that aspect is AU. I just don't remember. _

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><p><strong><em>The Persuasion in the Story<em>**

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><p>He was a scientist, empirical in all of its glory. Science explained everything, and what it could not explain could not be true. He used the Socratic method to solve the simplest of things and always had to have concepts or life experiences explained logically in scientific ways.<p>

His mom said she loved his dad, but in their time love didn't have to be a part of the equation for the sum to equal marriage. He believed people _thought_ they were in love, their bodies tricking them into believing they loved another person and wanted to be with them. Anything they "felt" was imaginary and, like Plato would say, irrational and detrimental towards society and its journey towards truth.

Then, he met her, and for the first time science was wrong, couldn't provide him with enlightenment. For the first time, he _felt_ love.

She was the good Catholic girl, innocent despite her later faults. Growing up, she attended church every Sunday and confirmation class every Tuesday. She went to confession and asked for forgiveness for small, insignificant mistakes. She was a daddy's girl, perfect in his eyes.

She grew up on Cinderella and Rapunzel. Love was something of perfect fairytales, but she knew one day she'd meet the man who loved her as she did him; she would know because she would feel it.

When she met him, she thought he was all wrong. He was all evidence and proof, and she was all heart and emotions, but somehow they both knew, both felt it. She made him believe, and he showed her that sometimes the Princess could love the Ogre more than any perfect Prince.

They fell into bad times with each other, turned to a life of crime. Every Sunday, though, she still went to Mass. Sometimes, he would go under the guise of a learning experience, or because it was important to her. She asked for repentance for their sins at confession and prayed for safety every night before bed.

When they had their first child, she prayed that their lifestyle wouldn't harm her baby boy. Even he prayed for their son to be spared. Though he didn't personally believe, her faith was enough to convince him to pray for his child.

When they welcomed their daughter into the world, they prayed harder. She was perfect, with big blue-gray eyes and auburn hair. She had this angelic laugh and smile. Every time he saw that smile he remembered that love is something to be felt; she was his proof. He would hug his baby girl and feel her heart beat over his—that was all he needed.

Before she was old enough to remember the negative aspects of her parents' dual lives, unlike her older brother, they got out. They had new identities and a new place to live. He went into what he knew, became a science teacher at the nearby school. Finally, they were able to provide for their children the right way.

Not a day went by after they abandoned their kids that he didn't think of them. Not a day passed that he did not miss them or want to tell them how much he loved them.

That man, that unbelieving scientist who once thought matters of the heart were irrational and fictitious, visits his wife's grave every Sunday he is in town. On Sundays, she went to Mass. On Sundays, he visits her. He tells her their story and how she changed him. He fills her in on their son's and daughter's lives. He remembers her.

He knows that more than anything she would want to see both of her children happy, so he made a promise. The next time he saw their daughter he would amend her disbelief, like his wife disproved his.

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><p>He took a tentative sip from the freshly poured coffee. Deciding it needed more sugar, he reached to the end of the table and pinched a packet of Sweet'n Low. As he shook the packet to move all of its contents to one end, the woman he had been waiting for entered his line of sight.<p>

She exited the black SUV, said some parting message with a smile on her face, and walked through the doors of the Diner as the overly-shiny car sped away. The Royal Diner hadn't been his first choice of meeting place, but with how busy she seemed to be lately, and how little time she claimed to have before the SUV would come back and pick her up, he was simply grateful she was able to make time for him.

After quickly depositing the contents of the packet into the mug, he stood to greet his daughter. With one arm, he hugged her and she rewarded him with one of her rare kisses on his leather-textured cheek.

Once she sat down he returned to his seat across from her and eased them into small talk while she waited for her tea. She told him about her current case and how Booth, Angela, Hodgins, and Cam were doing. She politely asked about Russ and the girls.

Giving her a few moments to fix her beverage, he paused the conversation. After she took her first sip he brought his own cup to his lips and said, "I visited your mother the other day," before taking a quick taste himself. Before she could interject about how you technically cannot visit or talk to dead people, he added, "I promised her I would make sure you were happy."

"I am happy," she claimed, looking at him square in the face with her eyebrows slightly furrowed. "I am a successful author and the leading scientist in my field," she dismissed, clearly not understanding how his definition of happiness and her definition did not add up.

"Social standing isn't everything, honey." When her look of confusion grew even more pronounced, he continued. "Your mother and I were a lot like you and Agent Booth. You never ask how we met."

As she played with the string of her tea bag, she factually stated, "I already know how you and Mom met. You were both in the same criminal organization where you proceeded to become career criminals and abandon me and Russ."

He leaned forward in his chair, his hands resting on both sides of the mug. "Your mother was innocent before she met me. We fell into hard times soon after we married and I made some naïve decisions," he defended.

When she said no more, he told her everything from the beginning. He told her how he was the empiricist, the rational scientist who believed that feelings and love were nothing more than body chemistry and societally imposed values. He told her how her mother, his wife, was in every way his opposite, and in every way his complementary other half. He told her how she came into his life and proved him and science wrong in a completely unscientific and irrational manner.

He spared her the story about abandoning her and Russ as that was something she already knew about and both parents had explained, even beyond the grave. Instead, Max focused on every way that he and Christine differed yet worked, making sure the comparison between his relationship with his wife was nearly identical to his daughter's relationship with her partner. He needed her to see how two people with opposite belief systems and ways of functioning could come together and have something amazing.

He told his story with reverence and respect, his tone the same as when he read her fairytales when she was a young girl. She followed his progression, but automatically refused his logic.

When he finally finished, she disregarded her learned social skills and commented, "I do not see the point of your story."

Closing his eyes, he took a quick breath before smiling and looking at her. "You're the scientist in this story, and he's the heart guy. You don't believe in only loving one person for the rest of your life and are unsure about love, but he does and his heart is as certain as you are that the sternum is inferior to the clavicle. You are all thought and hard proof, and he's all heart and feeling."

Now that she was absolutely certain about the conversation's purpose, she wanted to change the topic immediately. "Max," she warned, using his name to imply just how unwilling she was do discuss this.

"You need to give him a chance, Tempe." He paused to let her mull over his words, to consider the possibility of doing what he suggested. "You two are already doing something right; instead of taking part of a crime, you're finding justice for its victims. I know you think you are too different from Booth, but deep down, you are one in the same."

Looking down at her hands, she twisted her mother's ring around her finger. She paused, deciding what to say next. She had made so many mistakes and wasn't sure she could even _ask _Booth to forgive her and take the chance. Finally, she quietly admitted, "I lost my chance. We missed our moment."

This level of shame, and of honesty, was unusual for her. He stayed quiet, allowing his hurt daughter any amount of time that she needed. Usually, she wouldn't elaborate, let alone say what she already had, but sitting across from her father at the Diner after listening to everything he said, she talked to the least expected person about exactly what she wanted to avoid. "I don't have a heart like his." She used the words from that night outside Sweets' office.

Having regained her composure and rationality, she looked up at Max. Then, he responded. "Booth loves you for you. If anyone can show you how to love, if anyone can prove you wrong and help you discover how open your heart truly is, it's him. He's that guy—your guy. He's your one, just like your mom was mine."

The similarity between her father's and her partner's words struck a cord in Brennan. Just because more than one person thinks something doesn't make the thought true, which she knew. However, having two people, different yet similar in situation, say the same thing to her made her really pause and think.

Before she could answer, Max stood up without any explanation. He placed his open hand on his daughter's shoulder and walked away. When she turned around to ask him where he was going, she saw him and Booth standing together. Booth nodded once and the two men shook hands. When he saw her, he smiled his smile for her and pushed his way through the lunch crowd. He took the recently vacated seat across from her.

He didn't have the chance to start the conversation before she promptly asked what he and her befuddling father had discussed. He could easily tell by her expression that his honesty was particularly important to her at that moment. While he wasn't especially comfortable with the implications of Max's fatherly tone, and even though he really did not want to deal with the verbal punishment, he told her the truth. It wasn't the first time he had received the request from the man, but this time felt different. "He told me to take care of you," he admitted.

She didn't scoff about how she was a grown woman and doesn't need him or her dad taking care of her, or how Max shouldn't have said that to him, as Booth expected. Instead she looked him straight in the eye and they both sensed where this conversation was taking them.

Booth was wary that it was another conversation he would rather not take part of today, until, a beat or two later, she all but whispered, "I made a mistake, Booth."

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><p>He couldn't hear what they were saying from his position on the corner across the street from the Diner, but he could tell from her erect body position that she was uncomfortable with the topic of conversation, and took it as a good sign. When the man across from her took her hand in his, he smiled and turned to walk away.<p>

_I wish you were here,_ he thought, looking upward to the heavens as he walked. _I hope he makes her as happy as you made me._


	2. The Revelation in the Answer

**_Author's Note: _**_I know it's been a while, and I apologize for that. Hodgins seems like a bit of a pompous jerk, so I apologize for that as well. But, I thank you for reviewing the first chapter! There COULD be another, last chapter coming. We'll see, and hopefully sooner than 3+ weeks. _

_In other news, for those of you who read my "Adjective" series, I've started writing the next one and another series as well. Be looking for a post next week. _

_**Setting: **This can be seen as a standalone one-shot, or as a... continuation of sorts from the first chapter further down the line. Regardless, I made my own timeline. Brennan and Booth never left at the end of S5. I'm not even sure the opportunity presented itself for them to leave. HOWEVER, Angela and Hodgins did go to Paris for a little while. _

**_Disclaimer:_**_ The grocery store idea actually came from another TV show. I, unfortunately, don't own that or our beloved show. _

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><p><strong>The Revelation in the Answer<strong>

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><p>She has always been an artist, a constant stream of doodles floating through her mind. Her dad was a musician and a creative man. He claimed he heard her name as he played a song. That unorthodox but creative name destined the girl to be an artist from a young age.<p>

Even though she always hated her name, growing up she embraced its spirit. Her father always encouraged her painting and sculpting, and was never much of a disciplinarian. She was pretty good at math, and excelled in computer design and art courses, but was never good in the hard sciences.

She attended her share of parties and hooked up with plenty of guys in the typical teenage spots. She broke her fair share of hearts and had her own broken. Later into her college career, after sexual experimentation, she grew to be wiser beyond her years. With her experience, she knew about love and relationships.

She's always been a free spirit. She makes decisions based on feeling and heart. If something feels right, or if she thinks an experience could be life changing and soul awakening, she goes for it, finds a way to make it happen. Because of her easy going, relaxed nature, she never saw herself staying in one place long or easily settling down with one person for the rest of her life.

It wasn't as if nobody was interested in that with her, a lifelong commitment, but when a photographer asked, it just didn't feel right. Yes, she did get married to a stranger, but that felt right in that moment, especially given she was inhibited and feeling a bit _too_ free.

Then she met him. She was wary to accept his invitation and filled with unease when it did not fall flat. Slowly, he changed her mind. It took a try or two, but everything finally aligned and she felt it, knew he was her one, someone she thought she would never find.

He was a scientist, constantly exploring the world and organisms around him. His dad was uptight and strict, completely unafraid to pull out the belt, or have someone else do it for him. His name was a family heir of sorts, completely unoriginal.

He never liked his name and fought against it. Going through high school, in his Doc Martens, he hung out with the more "alternative" or rebel types. Some of the guys he hung out with were big on conspiracies as well.

Because of his money, he got whatever girls he wanted. From as early on as middle school, it wasn't uncommon for him to have a new girl hanging on his arm every week. He abused his social standing to make it work in his favor despite his vehement disgust with it. In college, he hung out with the other trust fund frat boys, truly abusing his wealth. It took an affair for him to realize how screwed up his life was.

He had always had that angry undercurrent, that desire to rebel, and his anger was part of what drove him to try hard in college. If up to his parents, he would have focused solely on the Cantilever Group, but he went directly into what he liked best—science. He did his real growing up at the end of his first four years in university.

In adolescence, his decisions were irrationally based on that teenage desire to stick it to the man. After his reality check in college, and a little later in his life, he had a balance of feeling and science. Some things he decided based on how he felt, others based on probability and scientific laws.

Then he met her and his goals changed. He wanted to become the perfect man for her, make his money work in his favor, not to win her over but to treat her right and how she deserves.

She started off skeptical of him, and he put his heart out there. She hurt him, made him feel like the luckiest man ever, and then crushed him all over again. Both of their hearts were throbbing for a while, but eventually they made it back to each other. Now, they share something amazing together.

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><p>They had decided on a specific time and place to meet. When they made the decision, she hadn't thought she would be in the middle of such a high profile case, but she made sure everyone knew she needed a set of uninterrupted time, a requirement her friend forced upon her.<p>

She had arrived early, snatching them their regular spot and ordering herself coffee, the one thing that seemed to be keeping her together and awake during this time of high stress. Impatiently waiting, she tapped her hands on her mug and looked at her watch every few minutes.

Finally, about three and a half minutes late, a blur of movement caught her eye outside the window. The tall, confident woman quickly leaned further in a car to kiss the driver on the cheek before slamming the door and rushing into the diner.

The impatient woman half raised her hand to catch the other woman's attention. Once spotted, she stood from her seat next to the window to meet her friend in an embrace.

"Sorry I'm late," the artist gushed, settling herself in the chair across the table with the remnants of the rush's flurry. "Hodgins insisted on dropping our luggage at home before he dropped me off and headed to the lab. I told him it would make me late and that you were busy, but he didn't listen." Flagging down a waitress to have her bring something to drink, she added, "Men," with an exaggerated eye-roll and head-shake.

Having a fitting response, Brennan perked up and chuckled. "Yes, I find that Booth quite often acts in a similar way." The statement was far more enjoyable to Brennan than it was to Angela, but Angela was simply happy to see her rational friend so joyful.

With her elbows on the edge of the table, Angela lifted her mug with both hands and raised it directly in front of her mouth. Before taking a sip of the steaming beverage, she waggled her eyebrows. "Booth, hmm?"

Brennan responded with a coy, tell-all grin, one side of her mouth rising higher than the other.

Everyone, including her best female friend sitting across from her, has always told her, "You just know." She thought she knew, but the fact that there was even a shred of doubt, confusion, and uncertainty, lead her to believe that maybe she didn't know.

Despite the fact that she'd gotten the flippant, uncommitted answer from her before, she tried again. "How do you know," she asked.

Her friend didn't bat an eye, knowing exactly what question was being asked. Hoping she would understand, the artist replied, "I wanted to go to the grocery store with him," absentmindedly stirring the teabag around the rim of her cup. She looked Brennan straight in the eye, challenging the rational woman to wonder if the man she was referring to made her want the same thing.

Instead she frowned and furrowed her eyebrows as she tilted her head to the left. Her hands were still, clutching the cup without any fidgeting. After carefully considering the meaning of the statement, and composing a reply, she flatly answered, "I am unfamiliar with that euphemism."

Angela took a drawn-out sip of her orange spice tea before answering. She considered her friend and how she processes things. To help her figure out the answer, finding it important that the fledgling lover and girlfriend come up with the answer herself, Angela decided to show how she had known.

She told her the story, from the beginning, of her and Hodgins' lives. She showed all of their differences, and all of their similarities, to make her own story similar to that of her friend's. She stressed what Brennan already knew, how they both hurt each other but found a way.

Brennan sat with her hands still wrapped around the warm ceramic of the cup, dutifully following, or at least trying to follow, her more experienced friend's logic. She was able to see all of the differences between how the artist and entomologist were raised, but saw no evidence to support an answer to her question.

Angela noted the confusion clearly written by Brennan's face and inwardly chuckled as she finished her tale. "It was after Jack asked me to move in with him that I wanted to go to the grocery store with him. That's how I knew we had something, that I wanted to make it work out."

With her head still cocked to the side, Brennan stated, "But Booth hasn't asked me to move in with him."

The waitress came by and offered refills. The scientist accepted the offer. Brennan pinched one the creamer cups between her thumb and index finger, carefully peeling back the lid before pouring it into her fresh coffee. Concentrating on her glass as she mixed everything together, she heard Angela reply, "It doesn't have to happen before there's talk of moving in, Bren. It just does. I was thinking one day and decided I wanted to go to the grocery store with him. Simple as that."

"What happens at the grocery store?" Booth took the seat next to Brennan, furthest from the window.

After taking a final drink of her tea, Angela looked directly at Brennan to make sure the sometimes-clueless woman understood the meaning behind her next words. "Absolutely nothing."

She placed some dollar bills at the end of the table and stood up, winking at Booth in a sexually suggestive manner and nodding once at Brennan for encouragement. Booth slightly flushed and turned his body as to face the woman to his left.

As slowly as she could, Angela walked to the doors, hoping to hear part of their conversation. She stopped in place, forcing other people to walk around her, until she heard Brennan say, "I find that I would like to go to the grocery store with you." She turned and saw Booth's confused look before Brennan begun explaining the sentiment, starting with, "Angela says…"

Thinking of how happy Hodgins makes her, she grinned and looked up. To God, the universe, or whomever, she thought, _I hope he makes her as happy as Jack makes me_.


	3. The Love in the Tale

_**Author's Note:** Here it is, the final chapter of this three-shot. Go me for getting it up sooner this time around! Thanks to all who have read and reviewed this._

**_Setting:_**_ Depending on if you want these to be standalone one-shots or connected to each other, this either happens 1+ years after the 2nd chapter, or whenever you want it to._

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><p><strong>The Love in the Tale<strong>

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><p>He is "that heart guy," always has been. It was him who said he knew, even in the very beginning before anything progressed. He had a feeling, a gut feeling, that whatever they were about to begin would end up going somewhere serious.<p>

When it didn't, he felt foolish. All he could think was how wrong he had been. His mind reeling from her abrupt change, he wasn't certain anything would ever come of their night.

He believed in fate and he believed they had missed the moment it had provided them. He was bitter with fate and took it out on her. For a long while he didn't want anything to do with her. It was only when he was desperate, when he knew nobody else would be able to solve the case, that he went back to her; she was his last resort.

That time he didn't "feel" anything. He never thought his feelings would come back, that they would ever go anywhere. They faced challenges together and relied on each other. He rescued her from death and convinced her of love. They made more than their fair share of mistakes, missed their many chances, but somehow everything fell into place and brought them together.

She barely believes she has a deserving heart, didn't even believe she had a heart willing to give for the longest time. She couldn't explain what she was feeling, but when they kissed, especially after his admissions, something spooked her. She claimed it was the tequila, but it wasn't drunken sex she would regret.

She didn't believe in fate, and expressively told him that, so it was not some missed cosmic moment that angered her. He made her look like a fool, used her on multiple unacceptable and unprofessional levels, and that peeved her.

When he asked her to help him out, she was still angry. When she gave him her conditions, a partnership with full access to the case, she never thought they would end up becoming friends, let alone as close as they became. Somehow, amidst being rescued and rescuing him from death, and messing everything up between them, she found love.

It took some courage on his part, and some convincing on hers, but they made it, finally embraced the moment given to hem. Max Keenan had done many things to his daughter, but finally he did something right. Angela had always been on their side and really helped her find her way. But, in the end, it was each other that made it work. They are different, and often butt heads, but somehow they manage to balance each other out and share something neither of them could have, or in her case, _would_ have, imagined.

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><p>She hadn't been able to sleep. For what seemed like an eternity, she tossed and turned under her sheets. Her pillows were thrown all over the bed, her comforter in a heap on the floor. Her tangled hair was sprawled across her mattress, messed up from her violent shifts and turns.<p>

She hadn't wanted to go to bed and this state of unease only made it worse. Her lips parted in a small sigh before she swung her legs off of the bed and slid down.

With her favorite blanket wrapped around her arms, the rest of it trailing behind her, her bare feet padded across the cold, wood floors.

She found him washing dishes. To get his attention, she tried to tug on his arm.

He looked down and briefly smiled before replacing his expression with a more reserved and composed one. "You should be in bed," he stated, his tone refuting the role he was attempting to convey.

She used her irresistible pout to win her father over. Unable to remain firm about her returning to her room, and unable to refuse her utter innocence, he gave in. He finished scrubbing the last dish before running the slippery ceramic under hot water and setting it on the drying rack. With the quick flick of the towel off his shoulder, he dried his hands and placed her smaller palm in his.

The young girl immediately felt better with her daddy in the room. Somehow his presence made all of the monsters and scary things go away.

He settled her into his protective arms and pulled her covers over their bodies. After taking a deep breath in preparation, he started retelling the story she had heard countless times before. "There once was a knight who fell in love with the fairest maiden in the Kingdom."

Before he could continue, she interrupted. Booth wasn't at all surprised. Tilting her head backwards to look at him, she asked, "Did the knight have a pony?"

Booth chuckled. Even thought he was there to teach her from the very beginning, she was so similar to Brennan it was often funny. He shook his head, tilting his chin down to look at his four year old daughter. "No, the gallant, brave knight had a dark and strong stallion. The fair maiden had a shiny pony."

Accepting his answer, she snuggled her head back into his chest. With her arm wrapped around her father's firm torso as much as her small arm would allow, she fell asleep with a smile on her lips.

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><p>Finished with his duties, he made his way to his own bed. Like clockwork, the other occupant wrapped her arm around his waist and furrowed her head underneath his chin. Her eyes closed, she whispered, "What story did you tell her tonight?"<p>

He sighed, wholly content, and replied, "Ours."

As he pulled the blanket higher up her back, he heard her say, "I love you, too."


End file.
